


Ends and new beginnings

by Tovarich



Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [30]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Arguing, Aromantic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aromantic Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has No Genitalia (Good Omens), Blood and Injury, Crowley Has No Genitalia (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Dirty Thoughts, First Kiss, First Time, Good Omens Celebration 2020, Hair-pulling, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mild Painplay, No Effort, Oral Sex, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Smut, The Fall (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), curious crowley, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tovarich/pseuds/Tovarich
Summary: A peek into Aziraphale and Crowley's (Raphael) relationship in the times right before the Fall.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727137
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	Ends and new beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for day 30 of the Good Omens Celebration event was "The End". I finally made it, even if it took way too long! I hope you'll like this one.

Something was about to happen. They had no word to express it, but they could still feel it. There was something dark looming over their heads, unrest growing in their hearts. They had no words yet for those feelings, either. There had been no need to name them because they weren't supposed to exist. They didn't belong in Heaven. Change was coming, indeed. In the stillness of eternity, sand started dripping in the hourglass, bringing the fatal hour inexorably closer. Constantly, without fault. Grain after grain of sand, counting down the seconds before what would inevitably happen. Echoing in the silence. Time hadn't been invented yet, but it was already a ruthless enemy. Aziraphale could feel it in the atmosphere, this impression of impending doom that made goosebumps appear on his skin and sent shivers up his spine. He saw it in the eyes of every angels around him, heard it in their clipped words. Among those white corridors that were still lit by the warm glow of God's light, the cold wind of suspicion was blowing.

What really worried him, though, was how much Raphael had changed. The red-haired archangel usually cast his own bright glow on anyone near him. His eyes used to shine like the stars he created. But now they had gone dull. Raphael had gone silent. Gone was the deep laughter that shook his whole body, the mischievous glint in his amber irises, the joyful chatter, the easy banter. It seemed as if a thick layer of grey dust had covered his vibrant being. He had always been more curious than the average angel, but now, there was an underlying anger whenever he questioned things. He started questioning God's decisions, Her plans, Her intentions. And if Aziraphale was honest, it frightened him. He had a bad feeling about this, he was afraid of the consequences Raphael would have to face for not being as obedient as was expected of an archangel.

One day, Aziraphale found Raphael at their usual meeting point, a room in a secluded corridor where they could talk in peace during breaks. They sat in silence for a moment that seemed to stretch for hours. When it became clear that Raphael had no intention to say a single word, Aziraphale started talking, if only to fill the space around them. He talked about his work organising Heaven's archives. Words continually pouring out of his mouth, stopping only once in a while to give Raphael a chance to intervene or to ask him to shut up. He doubted the other was very interested in what he was saying, but Raphael did nothing to stop him, so Aziraphale kept on rambling. He was in the process of complaining about how other angels had no respect for the precious rolls of parchment, how they manipulated them too roughly and never put them back in the right place, when Raphael abruptly turned toward him. He grabbed Aziraphale's lapels and smashed their lips together. There was nothing delicate in the way Raphael's lips pressed against him. It was clumsy and almost brutal. And yet, he did nothing to fight it, he didn't push Raphael away. A little voice in his head murmured that this could be quite pleasant if done the right way. The kiss ended as suddenly as it had begun, Raphael instantly turning away.

"Raphael!" Aziraphale gasped, eyes wide with shock, "why did you do that?"

Raphael just shrugged, his eyes still staring at something far away. "Dunno," he said eventually, "was just curious about how it felt."

Aziraphale sighed. Such behaviour would get him in trouble if he wasn't careful, and Aziraphale didn't want to lose his best friend. "You know we're not supposed to do that. God said it was something She planned for humans." Obviously, Raphael knew that, but maybe he needed someone to remind him.

"God said it was supposed to feel good between two people who wanted to have that sort of physical intimacy," Raphael replied, his brows set in a stubborn scowl.

"Yes, well we're not supposed to be physically intimate with each other, so that resolves the question."

"Why would God forbid it, if it's supposed to feel good?" And again, there was that anger, this sort of indignation in his tone.

"Because we're not human, my dear, that's just the way things are." Aziraphale didn't understand it, either, but he knew better than to question it. He knew nothing good could come out of a rebellion. No, it was better to just obey to God's orders, no matter how much he wanted to feel Raphael's lips on his once more. One of them had no be reasonable.

Before any of them could add another word, a bell rang, indicating it was time for them to go back to work.

* * *

No matter how hard he tried, Aziraphale couldn't take his mind off of the conversation he had with Raphael. The memory of his thin lips crushing his own in a bruising kiss haunted his thoughts. What would it feel like to cup Raphael's cheek and kiss him slowly? Would Raphael moan if Aziraphale let his lips trail down his jaw, leaving bruises and bitemarks on their way down his throat? What would Raphael's skin taste like under his tongue?

What was he thinking! Aziraphale screamed at himself, shaking his head to get rid of all those dirty thoughts. He wasn't supposed to feel carnal desire, this wasn't something God meant for angels to feel. Angels weren't supposed to feel anything but complete devotion for God and unconditional love for Her creation. But Aziraphale knew that what he felt for Raphael was different. It wasn't that vague feeling of love he felt for every creature God showed them, it was something personal. It was also different from what God had called romantic love. It was something special, only for Raphael. Did Raphael feel the same? Did he also think of Aziraphale as his best friend? He had made it clear he wanted to have physical intimacy with Aziraphale, and Aziraphale wanted it too, in any possible way. He wanted to touch Raphael's body and watch him writhe and moan under him, he wanted to kiss every freckles on his pale skin, he wanted to hold him tight and run his hand through his beautiful coppery hair. And if Raphael didn't want some of those things, that was alright. Aziraphale would give him everything he wanted and take what Raphael was willing to give.

Aziraphale heaved an irritated sighed. Here he was, thinking like that again. He was supposed to be the reasonable one! He went back to work, mechanically putting scrolls after scrolls on the endless shelves of the archive room. He could feel the curious stares of other angels on his back, but he didn't care. He knew he wasn't doing his job as precisely as usual, he didn't have the same patient passion as he manipulated the scrolls and probably put some of them in the wrong place. But it didn't matter. He needed something to occupy his mind and that was the only thing available for now. When the bell rang again, announcing another break, Aziraphale hesitated one moment before practically running to his and Raphael's meeting point.

When he arrived, Raphael was already there. The archangel was pacing back and forth, mumbling something under his breath. Aziraphale cleared his throat, making Raphael jump.

"Aziraphale!" His face went through various emotions before finally settling on something that was both pleading and hopeful. "You're here, you came! I'm so, so sorry, I was so afraid you wouldn't join me after what happened."

Aziraphale smiled indulgently at Raphael. "Of course, I came, my dear. Besides, I think we need to talk."

The archangel started pacing back and forth again, his eyes a bit too wide and his mouth stretched in various weird grimaces. Aziraphale hated to see his friend in such a state, but he knew he had to wait for Raphael to say something. It was obvious the other was trying to work things out in his mind before speaking.

"Hnnnn yeah, you're right," Raphael said, still avoiding looking at Aziraphale, "Right, talk. Uhm about that… I'm sorry, should have asked your permission before doing that. Sorry. I don't know what goes through my head sometimes," he huffed a humourless laugh. "We're still friends, though, right? I swear it won't ever happen again, Aziraphale, I promise."

Aziraphale took Raphael's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "You're right, you should have asked. But I'm not mad at you, Raphael. In fact, if you're still interested in finding out what kissing feels like, I wouldn't be opposed to trying it together." It was now Aziraphale's turn to avoid Raphael's eyes. It wasn't that he didn't want it. In fact, him wanting it was precisely the problem.

Raphael smirked, "What happened to angels not being supposed to want physical intimacy?"

"I still believe we're not supposed to want it," Aziraphale huffed, "Only, I can't deny that I have this… this desire in me." He was blushing, utterly mortified by his admission. But a part of him was relieved. Lying to himself had begun to feel terribly exhausting.

"Perhaps it was Her plan all along," Raphael whispered as he cupped Aziraphale's cheek, turning the angel's face toward him.

They were so close now. When Aziraphale spoke, his lips almost brushed against Raphael's. "Perhaps," he said in an exhale before closing the distance between them.

This kiss wasn't ardent and passionate. It wasn't bruising or possessive, but it couldn't be described as shy either. They were tasting each other's lips, changing pressure and angle, discovering the different sensations this procured to them. They were drowning in the moment. And for a while, Aziraphale was sure the merciless clocks stopped ticking, giving them a small reprieve before resuming their countdown to some ineffable end. To Aziraphale, the world stopped existing, only he and Raphael mattered. It was soft and warm and glorious. And when Raphael disentangled their mouths to take a breath he didn't need, Aziraphale saw his emotions reflected in amber eyes.

"Zira," he murmured. And in his voice, there wasn't a want anymore. There was a need. Pulling Aziraphale closer, like a magnet. Irresistible. Closer and closer until their lips met once again in a kiss that had gained in urgency and desperation.

Aziraphale didn't even try to resist it. He had already drowned; the wave had swallowed him, and he had gone willingly. His lips abandoned Raphael's to explore his sharp jaw and long neck, leaving bruises on their path. Raphael whimpered as Aziraphale bit on the junction between his neck and shoulder, his hands gripping the angel's white robes. Aziraphale pushed down Raphael's robes, letting them fall to the white ground. His own clothes quickly followed. They were only ethereal beings, and yet their skins felt so warm and smooth as their bodies pressed against each other.

Aziraphale's mouth followed the lines of Raphael's body, licking and kissing down the hard plains of his chest, stopping only to suck on his nipples. This caused Raphael to gasp and arch his back, barely swallowing a moan. Aziraphale grinned against his skin.

"You're a bastard," Raphael said between hard breaths.

"Are you complaining?" Aziraphale asked smugly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how he could feel so confident with Raphael when he felt so anxious around the other angels.

But the thought was quickly forgotten when Raphael replied, "I can be a bastard too, y'know," before sucking on Aziraphale's neck while his nails raked down the angel's back, leaving red trails behind.

Aziraphale was helpless to contain the moan that was wrenched from him. He buried his face in the crook of Raphael's neck, digging his own nails in his shoulders. The archangel then soothingly ran his hands up and down Aziraphale's back, the skin there lighting up with both pain and pleasure.

Something that sounded like a sob escaped Aziraphale's mouth, and Raphael instantly stopped, kissing Aziraphale's curls as he asked, "Hey, Zira, you alright?"

Aziraphale's arms were still wrapped tightly around Raphael's shoulders, his face still hidden in his neck, covered by a curtain of bright red hair. He nodded and whispered, "More, please."

Raphael felt the words against his skin more than heard them, but it was all he needed to know this was all right. Carefully, he let his nails leave marks on Aziraphale's sides, making the angel whine and shudder in need. Raphael was fascinated by the reactions he got from Aziraphale, and for some reason, his own body was reacting too. There was a tingle in his belly and warmth in his chest as he left light red tracks down Aziraphale's perfect skin.

One of Aziraphale's hand gripped Raphael's hair and tugged on it, tilting his head back. Raphael moaned at the slight sting it caused in his scalp. And then, Aziraphale's tongue was licking up his throat, his chin, until he was able to claim Raphael's lips in a searing kiss. They were tangled together, a mess of limbs and sweaty, bruised skin. They were devouring each other's mouths, nails ripping through previously immaculate skin, taking and giving, drowning in carnal passion and deep affection for each other.

Aziraphale dropped to his knees, hands gripping Raphael's hips tightly enough to leave bruises. He kissed his way from Raphael's lower belly to his upper thighs, savouring the indescribable taste of his skin. Raphael was panting above him, fingers buried in messy blond curls. He went down one thigh and up the other, sucking and nipping at the muscly flesh. And then he licked the smooth skin between Raphael's thighs. The archangel moaned loudly, fingers tightening their grip on Aziraphale's hair as he bucked his hips against Aziraphale's mouth.

"There, there, please. Please, Zira, more."

There was a desperation in his tone that spurred Aziraphale on. He licked and sucked at the flesh there, sometimes leaving light kisses to make Raphael whimper in need. He continued relentlessly, his hands kneading the muscles on Raphael's arse and thighs. He continued until Raphael's whole body shook, his head thrown back on a soundless moan.

Raphael fell to his knees in front of Aziraphale' slight tremors still travelling through his limbs. He kissed Aziraphale's mouth, more tenderly this time, but still deep and full of want.

"Let me show you how good that feels, please," he whispered against the shell of Aziraphale's ear.

Aziraphale slowly lowered himself to lie down on his back, his legs opened in silent invitation. Raphael licked a straight line from Aziraphale's throat to the place between his plush thighs. He would love to sink his teeth in the supple flesh there, but it would have to wait. For now, he wanted to give Aziraphale that same bliss, to make him squirm and whimper with agonising pleasure. He kept Aziraphale's hips from bucking with a firm hand on his lower belly, the possessiveness of the gesture making Aziraphale bite on his hand to muffle his moan.

Raphael guided one of Aziraphale's hand to his hair, encouraging him to pull on the red curls as he started kissing Aziraphale's pelvis. Aziraphale's fingers twisted in Raphael's hair, making the archangel moan. His mouth continued its journey downward, tentatively licking the skin right between Aziraphale's thighs. The angel struggled against the pressure of Raphael's hand on his belly as he tried to buck his hips against those sinful lips.

Raphael's tongue was long and agile, his lips were warm against the sensitive skin. And those blunt nails nigging in the skin of his thighs. It was painful and oh, so delectable. Too much and not enough all at once. Raphael dug his nails even deeper in Aziraphale's thigh, almost drawing blood, and with a sucking kiss on his smooth, sensitive skin, the angel fell down the edge. His back arched on the ground and he choked on a sob that sounded like the archangel's name.

Raphael went to lie down beside Aziraphale, laying his head on the other angel's heaving chest. They were both exhausted and happy, but anxiety was slowly creeping up Raphael's chest. He waited for a while, until they had both regained their breaths before speaking.

"'Ziraphale?" He asked tentatively, almost feeling guilty for breaking the silence.

"Yes, my dear?" Aziraphale said as he started playing with a strand of Raphael's long hair.

That was nice, Raphael thought. It was easy, almost natural. He wished he could have this forever with his best friend. "We're still friends, right? You're still my best friend?"

Raphael didn’t need to see Aziraphale's confused frown to know it was there, it almost made him snort. "Well, of course," the angel said in a tired voice. "Don't tell me you're still scared I might be mad at you."

"No, no it's not that," Raphael sat up and looked at Aziraphale. "It's just, you know, that romantic love thing God told us about? I'm not interested in that."

And now Raphael could only hope Aziraphale wouldn't be disappointed or hate him or never want to talk to him ever again. They really should have talked about this earlier. What if Aziraphale was interested in the romantic thing too and didn't want to be Raphael's best friend anymore? What if this wasn't enough for him? Aziraphale was going to leave him, he would be disgusted by Raphael and just leave him alone. Who would want anything to do with an angel who isn't capable of all forms of love? Aziraphale certainly deserved better. He deserved to be loved in every possible way. And really, Raphael was just being selfish by wanting to keep Aziraphale to himself, claim him as his best friend. That wasn't how a proper angel should behave.

He only noticed he was shaking when Aziraphale's strong arms wrapped around his thin frame, holding him close, whispering soothing words against his forehead. When Raphael calmed down, Aziraphale kissed the top of his head and looked at him with eyes so full of love it was almost overwhelming.

"Of course, we're still best friends, my darling. Whatever happens, we'll always be best friends."

Raphael smiled, accepting the easy affection Aziraphale showed him. He let his eyelids fall, sinking in Aziraphale's arms. They stayed like this, determined to enjoy this moment.

But the sand had started dripping in the hourglass once again, bringing the fatal hour closer and closer.

* * *

The clocks kept ticking when Raphael started spending too much time around Lucifer. More sand gathered in the hourglass as he kept asking questions. They had stopped being innocent, genuine interrogations long ago. Now, they had turned sceptical of God's plan. His doubts attracted too much attention on him, bringing danger ever closer.

"I don't like you spending so much time with Lucifer and the others. I have a bad feeling about them," Aziraphale told him one day.

Raphael frowned, "I can spend my time with whoever I want!" He said, almost shouting, "If you're jealous, find someone else to be possessive with. You don't own me, Aziraphale." The warmth that usually was there, in his eyes and in his voice whenever he talked to Aziraphale had vanished, leaving only cold defiance in its place.

"I'm not jealous, I want you to be careful! You can't go around asking such questions about God's plan, it's going to get you in trouble."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm not a child. I can take care of myself," Raphael spat, walking away.

Aziraphale didn't follow him.

At the break, Raphael didn't join him at their meeting spot. He didn't come the next time either, or the one after that.

Aziraphale watched him from afar. He seemed happy, careless. But in the background, the ticking was become louder and louder. The corridors were becoming colder and the gentle, yellow glow had been replaced by harsh, white neon light. Aziraphale heard whispers as he walked alone down those endless, sterile corridors. Heard God was preparing something, that there was a rebellion going on, a war would happen. He heard that some angels had betrayed God, questioned Her, disappointed Her. He heard of a place where they would be exiled, a place of endless suffering.

He tried to talk to Raphael, but the archangel ignored him. He probably already knew anyway.

* * *

Aziraphale was holding his flaming sword with shaky hands, eyes darting right and left in search of familiar amber eyes and red hair. The clocks had stopped ticking, announcing the time had come. It was in their absence that everyone noticed they had been there in the first place, counting down the seconds to this very moment. The beginning of the Heavenly War. Chaos overtook Heaven. Golden blood staining flawless white walls and pure white marble floors. Shouts and screams and cries echoing in the vastness of the halls. Aziraphale fought his way through the angels, not even caring whose sword he was crossing, whose blood he was spilling. In the back of his mind, he was aware that he had been injured too, but the pain was clouded by his worry over his best friend. Maybe Raphael didn't consider him as such anymore, but Aziraphale had made a promise. He had carved a place in his heart that would always be filled by Raphael, no matter what happened. And now, it might be too late to mend their relationship, but there might still be time to say goodbye.

All around him, angels fought. Some fell from Heaven to an unknown place, some lay on the ground in a golden puddle, groaning and crying. In the carnage, Aziraphale saw a flash of red in the corner of his eye.

"Raphael!" He shouted, running to meet his friend. There might still be time, it wasn't too late yet, Aziraphale kept telling himself as he slalomed between swords and bodies.

He grabbed Raphael's hand and yanked him backward, barely avoiding the sword aiming for Raphael's throat. Raphael's eyes were wide, full of terror and anger, and for a moment, Aziraphale feared he had made a mistake. But Raphael's expression softened when his eyes landed on Aziraphale.

"Zira!" Raphael cried, burying his face in Aziraphale's neck.

When Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Raphael's middle, he felt something warm and slick on his fingers. Blood. Raphael was injured, he was panting, gritting his teeth in pain. Tremors ran through his body, making the blood gush from the large wound in his flank.

"'M Sorry, Zira. Should have listened to you."

"It's alright, now, my darling," Aziraphale whispered in a soothing voice, one of his hand going up to stroke Raphael's hair. "Everything is going to be alright. Just stay with me."

But Raphael shook his head, tears dropping from his cheeks, forming a wet patch on Aziraphale's shoulder. "It's too late, now. But I'll be fine. We'll be fine, I promise."

Aziraphale looked in Raphael's eyes. There was a pain there that had nothing to do with his injury. Aziraphale wanted to take care of him. Wanted to soothe his worries and free him of his suffering. But he knew he was powerless. Their fate had already been written; it was too late to change it now. In the corner of his eye, he saw a sword approaching dangerously. He took a step back, on of his hand still clasping Raphael and swung his sword with all his strength. He didn't look long enough to see who the assailant was or what happened to them afterwards. His conversation with Raphael was more important.

"How can you be so sure, Raphael. You don't even know where God is planning on sending you." He let his sword fall to the ground, the clang of metal swallowed by the chaotic noises around them. With his now free hand, he cupped Raphael's cheek, feeling his soft skin under his thumb for the last time. "I don't want to lose you," he whispered, failing to keep his own tears from dripping down his cheeks.

Raphael brought them closer together, leaning his forehead against Aziraphale's. "We'll meet again, Zira, I swear. I'll make sure of that." And there was something fierce in his voice that convinced Aziraphale he was telling the truth.

They were torn apart by a sea of bodies. Swords clashing, mouths open in screams of pain and rage, blood spilling on the ground and staining immaculate clothes. After only a few seconds, Aziraphale lost sight of Raphael. After a few minutes, he couldn't even feel him anymore. The archangel was gone, he had fallen to the unknown place God had designed for rebellious angels. Aziraphale let himself fall on his knees, crying silently the loss of his best friend.

After the battle, once all the golden stains had been removed and Heaven had got back to how it had always been, Aziraphale noticed a change in the atmosphere. There was no more laughter, no more happy chatter, no warm smiles. Angels had become cold, serious, and concerned. Archangels in particular had become ruthless, making sure no other angels strayed out of the right path God had designed for them. In reality, they had no idea what God wanted. She stopped talking to them after them, stopped telling them about all those things She planned for the creatures She would give life to. But they needed to pretend, if only to reassure themselves. Aziraphale found no joy in those endless corridors. In the breaks, he stayed alone, continuing his work because there was nothing else to do. In this place where he had once found affection and happiness, everything felt dull and loveless. Heaven's civil war, the first of all, had been the end of an era.

But like all ends, it was followed by a new beginning. And it would take place in a Garden.


End file.
